Original subtitles

'Previously on "Hannibal"...

- Garrett hobbs didn't kill Cassie boyle. - I know.

Dad, it's for you.

I believe the as-yet unidentified caller was our copycat killer.

I wanna go home.

You do this a lot?

- Go places and think about killing? - Too often.

Abigail!

I didn't kill that girl.

This isn't self-defence, Abigail. You butchered him.

- You're the one who called the house. - I'll keep your secret.

And I'll keep yours.

Sometimes, at night I leave the lights on in my little house.

And... Walk across the flat fields.

'But when I look back from a distance,

'the house is like a boat on the sea.'

it's really the only time I feel safe.

You stood in the breathing silence of gareth Jacob hobbs's home,

the very spaces he moved through.

Tell me, will, did they speak to you?

With noise and clarity.

You could sense his madness, like a bloodhound.

I tried so hard to know gareth Jacob hobbs.

To see him.

Gareth Jacob hobbs, FBI!

Past the slides and phials,

beyond the lines of the police reports,

between the pixels of all those...

Printed faces of sad dead girls.

See?

How did you feel seeing Marissa schurr, impaled in his antler room?

Guilty.

Because you couldn't save her?

Because I felt like I killed her.

I got so close to him.

Sometimes...

I felt like we were doing the same things at different times of day

like I was eating or showering or sleeping at the same time he was.

Even after he was dead?

Even after he was dead.

Like... you were becoming him.

I know who I am. I'm not gareth Jacob hobbs, doctor Lecter.

Table has been set.

Family dinner.

I wasn't invited.

I take my seat at the head of the table.

My seat.

My place setting, next to mrs Turner.

I am the guest of honour.

Nobody's taken a bite of their dinner.

If you don't eat your growing foods, you won't get any dessert.

No one leaves the table!

All afraid to move,

even the little ones behave themselves.

I brought my own family to this home invasion.

Controlling the turners with threats of violence,

threats that turn to action.

The Turner family is executed simultaneously.

With the exception of mrs Turner who dies last.

This is my design.

I shoot mrs Turner.

What do you see, will?

Family values.

Whose family values?

All right, Karen and Roger Turner, childhood sweethearts,

owned a successful real estate business.

Pillars of the community, three children.

- Minus one. - Uh... a son.

Jesse. Disappeared last year.

Last confirmed sighting had him boarding an rv

at a rest stop on route 47.

- Possible runaway, probable abduction. - Or both.

- When misery rains, it pours. - False faces in family portraits.

Layers and layers of lies, betrayed by...

A sad glint in the child's eyes.

- Norman Rockwell with a bullet! - Any signs of forced entry?

No broken windows or torn screens. All sealed up tight.

Yeah, they probably rang the front door.

I got bullet holes on the upper sections of the wall.

- And again over here. - Ok. Pull the slugs for ballistics.

They aren't frangible, shouldn't be a problem.

Elevated termination points match for the scene with these bodies.

Angular cranial impact coupled with acute exit wounds, conical spray.

Shooter went low to high, probably crouching.

- When was Jesse abducted? - Uh, a little over a year ago.

'I can hide what happened to me.

'All I need is a scarf to pass.'

hiding what happened to you defeats the purpose of being here.

Sharing will help normalise.

I'm not normal. Not anymore.

What happened to you isn't normal.

Some of these women aren't even sharing.

They speak in "little girl voices",

telling everyone what was done to them without saying a word about it.

Certain traumas can arrest vocal development.

And victims can sometimes broadcast victimhood involuntarily.

Not me.

That's not necessarily true.

Your victimhood has a high profile.

I'm a celebrity victim!

Someone here asked me if I kept my stained clothes.

How did that make you feel?

Like I wanted to go home.

But I don't have a home anymore, do I?

You will. You will, I'll help you find it.

Abigail, I'd like you to give the support group another chance.

Support groups are sucking the life out of me.

Well, isolation can suck just as much.

You have to find someone to relate to in this experience.

- Do you have an appointment? - Do you have a beer?

Interesting day with Abigail?

Yeah, with grief work, trauma intervention.

It's all on course.

I think she might be wrestling with a low-grade depression.

She?

Nothing wrong with a little self-medication, right, doctor?

Professional neutrality be damned.

It's so hard to watch a bright young girl go so adrift.

Perhaps it's time Abigail is released from clinical treatment.

Released where? Back into the wild?

Spending each day immersed in tragedy may be doing more harm than good.

She should be out in the world.

Finding her footing, giving her the confidence to move fonnard.

Abigail is in no condition to tackle her real world issues.

- Where's she gonna live? - I'm not suggesting abandonment.

Hannibal, this is a girl who was very attached to her parents.

You stepping in as a surrogate would only be a crutch.

I think Abigail needs to figure things out for herself

in a safe, clinical environment.

And that will give her the confidence to move fonnard.

I defer to the passion of my esteemed colleague.

Passion's good. Gets blood pumping.

I'm glad we didn't have guns in my house.

I would've shot my sisters just to get them out of the bathroom.

- I liked having a big family. - My parents gave me a gift, a twin.

- Who wouldn't want two of me? - Let me guess... only child.

Why do you say that?

Because family friction is usually a catalyst for personality development.

I was the oldest, so all the friction rolled downhill.

Yes, all the attention and responsibility is heaped on firstborn children.

Prepares them for success in the future.

My baby sister got away with murder. She had them all fooled.

- I thought middles were the problem. - Middle's the sweet spot.

Always trying to figure out where they fit in.

They can be great... politicians.

Or lousy ones.

All the victims have defensive wounds except for mrs Turner.

There's forgiveness.

What kind of victim forgives the killer at the moment of death?

A mother.

- Tell me about your mother. - Some lazy psychiatry, doctor Lecter.

Low hanging fruit.

I suspect that fruit is on a high branch.

- Very difficult to reach. - So is my mother.

- Never knew her. - An interesting place to start.

Tell me about your mother, let's start there.

Both my parents died when I was very young.

The proverbial orphan until I was adopted by my uncle robertos when I was 16.

You have orphan in common with Abigail hobbs.

I think you'll discover you and I have a great deal in common with Abigail.

She's already demonstrated an aptitude for the psychological.

There's something so foreign about family.

Like an ill-fitting suit.

I never connected to the concept.

You created a family for yourself.

I connect to a family of strays.

And thank you for feeding them while I was away.

I was referring to Abigail.

Tell me about the Turner family, were they affluent, well-to-do?

They lived like they had money.

- Did your family have money, will? - We were poor.

I followed my father from the boatyards

of Biloxi and Greenville, to lake boats on erie.

Always the new boy at school, always the stranger.

Always.

What grudge was mrs Turner's killer harbouring against her?

Motherhood.

Not motherhood. A perversion of it.

A modified boudin noir

from all bab's gastronomie practique.

You promised to deliver your wife to my dinner table.

We're gonna have to Polish up our act,

we can't have you diagnosing our marital problems all in one fell swoop.

- What am I about to put in my mouth? - Rabbit.

- He should've hopped faster. - Yes, he should have.

- But fortunately for us, he did not. - Mm-mm.

Our friend will seems haunted today.

We don't know what nightmares lie coiled beneath will's pillow.

Children killing other children is... Not that unfamiliar a notion to will.

You still suspect Abigail hobbs in her father's crimes.

Perhaps the nightmare under will's pillow

is that he was wrong about her.

Children transport us to our childhoods.

Will may feel the tug of life before the FBI, before you.

Simpler times in boatyards with dad.

That life is an anchor streamed behind him in heavy weather.

He needs an anchor, Jack.

One pair of size-six sneakers from the Turner house.

The tread on left indicates uneven leg length.

- Is that unusual? - Not in a 12-year-old.

Growth plates all out of whack, got one foot that's bigger,

one leg that's longer, puberty in full effect.

How did Jesse Turner turn out? No one's seen him in over a year.

I extrapolated the present height and weight from abduction stats.

Even with the usual growth spurts between 11 and 12,

he'd be four and a half feet, 80ibs tops.

God's gift to trace analysts. Greasy fingerprints all over these things.

No matches, but they're gorgeous.

Isolated seven pairs of shoe prints.

Filtered out the Turner's including Jesse's, so we're down to three unsubs.

Sneakers are sizes seven, three and a half, and a boy's 11.

- The lost boy's. - I think I found one of them.

Most of the time in sexual assaults,

the bite Mark has a livid spot at the centre, a "suck bruise".

In some cases, it does not.

For some killers, biting may be a fighting pattern

as much as a sexual behaviour...

Ok, class dismissed. Everyone out.

What did I just say? Let's go!

You're making it difficult to provide an education, Jack.

We found a match to a set of prints we pulled from the Turner home,

they belong to a 13-year-old boy from Reston, Virginia.

- His name is Conner frist. - Another kid?

Another missing kid.

Vanished ten months ago, case was never solved.

How many kids in the frist family?

Three, just like the Turner family.

We're ready to go when you are and you're ready to go now, so let's go.

You're expecting a crime scene?

J there is no Christmas

I like a home Christmas

I with your dad and mother, sis and brother there

I with their hearts humming...I

Mr frist and the children killed first, saving mrs frist for last.

- Same as the turners. - Not exactly the same.

Something went wrong.

Not a single present under the tree for mrs frist.

He took her presents, he took her motherhood.

Shooting her once wasn't enough.

The first bullet travels beneath her scalp

to its final resting place, base of her neck.

It still didn't kill her.

Hydrostatic shock of shell hitting skull would've caused brain damage.

- Her body went into convulsions. - He shot her again.

Put her out of her misery, different gun.

So someone else shot Conner's mum.

So who is our additional corpse in the fireplace?

I'd say Conner frist.

He'd been prepped to shoot his mother, not watch her suffer.

Conner couldn't put his panic back in the bottle, so he got shot too.

Whoever shot him...

Disowned him.

Don't be sad about Conner.

I guess I couldn't make him understand.

The family you're born into isn't really family,

those are just people you didn't choose.

You have to make family, that's what we're doing, we're making our family.

- What happened to your family? - We're her family.

I meant... your other family.

The family you think is family is just a stepping stone to real family.

Are you feeling ok, sweetie pie?

- He's fine. - Cj.

You should be excited to go home.

Even if it is to say goodbye, cos we're your family now, Christopher.

You can only have one family.

Ever heard of Willard wigan?

He's this artist that does micro sculptures,

like putting the obamas in the eye of a needle.

He's so focused that he can work between beats of his heart.

I guess archers do the same thing, right?

- Hmm... - What are you looking at?

Both these kids are small, undenneight for their age.

You think there's a connection?

I'm thinking possible adhd diagnosis for both boys.

Ritalin, focalin,

any medication containing methylphenidate can affect appetite

and slow long-term growth in kids.

Another thing about Willard wigan,

he had a lonely childhood.

He used his tiny sculptures as an escape.

Who's Willard wigan?

Price got a hit on the ballistics matching programme

he's been running on the two family murders.

The bullet that put mrs frist out of her misery

matches three used in a murder in bangor, Maine a year ago.

Mother of a 13-year-old boy shot to death with her own gun.

13-year-old milk carton material.

Cj Lincoln disappeared six months before his mother's murder,

hasn't been seen since.

He has none of the characteristics of a sadist or a sociopath.

Right, no shoplifting, no malicious destruction of property.

No assault, no battery, he was kind to animals, for god's sake.

The firearm says we are looking at Peter Pan to our lost boys.

But it takes a sophisticated level of manipulation

to convince young boys to kill their families in cold blood.

Kindness to animals doesn't suggest that particular kind of sophistication.

Well, he's older, he's been out in the world.

'Maybe he picked up a few things.'

There you go.

Thank you so much.

Oh, honey!

Oh, geez... Are you feeling ok, honey?

You have a fever?

- You don't feel warm. - Here you go, ma'am.

Oh, thank you. He's never done this before.

- I'll pay for the napkins. - Don't worry about it.

Oh, honey, oh, gee-whiz...

I'm so embarrassed.

But you shouldn't feel embarrassed, this happens with little bladders, right?

Right?

Good evening, will. Please come in.

Has Christmas come early? Or late?

- It was for Abigail. - "Was"?

I thought better of it, I wasn't thinking straight. I was upset when I bought it.

Maybe still am.

- What is it? - A magnifying glass.

Fly-tying gear.

Teaching her how to fish.

- Her father taught her how to hunt. - That's why I thought better of it.

Feeling paternal, will?

- Aren't you? - Yes.

Our good friend doctor bloom has advised against

taking too personal an interest in Abigail's welfare.

- Tell me why are you so angry? - I'm angry about those boys.

I'm angry cos I know when I find them, I can't help them.

I can't give them back what they just gave away.

Family.

Yeah.

We call them the "lost boys".

Abigail's lost too.

And perhaps it's our responsibility,

yours and mine, to help her find her way.

I don't think I'm allowed to leave, after I climb the fence.

I've made arrangements.

You could say, I'm one of your guardians.

- Where are we going? - Home. My home.

I thought you might enjoy if I cooked for you.

- I'll have you back before bedtime. - Can't I spend the night?

I don't like sleeping here, I have bad dreams.

You have to sleep in your own bed.

This isn't my bed.

Tell me about your bad dreams.

I had one where Marissa was sending me picture texts.

Like crime scene photos of Nicholas boyle.

Gutted.

How you left him.

Even though she's dead, I'm afraid Marissa's gonna tell everyone I killed him

and they'll think I'm just like my dad.

Sorry.

Can't really talk about this in group.

You don't have that luxury, Abigail.

I'll just have to get used to lying.

You only have to lie about one thing.

And when you're with me, you don't have to lie about anything.

In the dream, I wonder how I could live with myself,

knowing what I did.

And when you're awake?

When I'm awake, I know I can live with myself.

And I'll just get used to what I did.

- Does that make me a sociopath? - No.

It makes you a survivor.

It's important to know when it's time to turn the page.

Have you thought about applying for schools?

My dad killed girls at all the schools I applied to.

- Perhaps that can wait then. - I wanna work for the FBI.

I would certainly feel safer if you were in the FBI,

protecting my interests.

They wouldn't let me though, would they? Because of what my dad did.

Only if they believe that's in your nature too.

Nature versus nurture.

You're not your father's daughter. Not anymore.

What if it weren't so painful anymore, to think of him?

- My dad? - Yes.

Have you ever tried psilocybin?

Mushrooms?

- That's what's in the tea? - Yes.

There are those psychiatrists who believe that altered states

could be used to access traumatic memories.

I have all the access to traumatic memories I need.

Unlimited access.

Which is why we need to supplement them with positive associations.

No more bad dreams, Abigail.

- You want me to do drugs? - I want you to do this drug.

With my supervision. Where it's safe.

Do you trust me?

Bangor, Maine. Stamford, Connecticut.

And recently Reston, Virginia.

This places each murder approximately 500 miles from the one before it.

Right.

You're trying to establish a geographical pattern

when the murders are weeks apart.

Other patterns too: Our shooters are minors,

middle children from traditional affluent families.

They're moving south,

so we wanna cover the border of north Carolina and Georgia.

We need to get files on every missing boy within 200 miles of north Carolina.

There's a pattern... less to do with geography than psychology.

What kind of kid does this?

And what kind of kid follows a kid who does this?

There's no indication these kids came from abusive families.

No, no, no.

Capture-bonding.

A passive psychological response to a new master

has been an essential survival tool for a million years.

You bond with your captor, you survive.

You don't... you're breakfast.

Just like we talked about.

Doctor bloom said this was ok?

Not at all. We often have a difference of opinion.

- More secrets for us. - Well...

You and I will have many secrets.

Infusing psilosybin into the bloodstream before psychotherapy

can illicit a positive, even spiritual, experience for patients.

Psychological trauma is an affliction of the powerless.

I want to give you your power back.

I don't feel so good.

That feeling will pass.

Allow it to wash over you, through you.

Let me be your guide.

You're making breakfast for dinner?

High life eggs.

A chef in Spain called muro claimed he invented it in the 19th century.

Taste is not only biochemical, it's also psychological.

Sausage and eggs was the last meal I was having with my parents.

I know.

It's also the first meal you're having with me.

Without the interference of a leader,

these kids would never consider violent action.

Our missing kid's a boy.

A paradox in the midst of a normal family,

he's an outsider who doesn't look like one.

He'd have a vocation. Something inventive or mechanical.

Here's one.

Family moved from Biloxi to Charleston to fayetteville in the last three years.

He won a junior high award for his work on pretty sophisticated computer circuitry.

Why do you think these kids are susceptible to cj Lincoln?

Our boy may have a brother, but their ages or interests keep them apart.

- So he's a brother without a brother. - Brothers looking for a mother.

They're killing the mothers last.

- Yeah? - It's not just cj Lincoln.

There's an adult with some formative sway.

It's a woman, a mother figure I think. She's looking to form a family.

A family can have a contagion effect on some people.

Influences them to adopt similar behaviours and attitudes.

Whoever this woman is, she wants these children

to burst with love for her.

But she has to erase their family to do that.

So she abducts them, convinces them no one can love them like her,

and then makes damn sure of it.

A security camera in a convenience store in Alexandria, Virginia,

caught footage of one Chris o'halloran this morning.

He was with an unidentified woman.

- Where's this kid's parents? - Fayetteville, north Carolina.

- Christopher? - Hi, mum.

Oh, my god.

Chris.

No, no, no!

Down! Down on the ground right now!

Chris, wait.

Don't shoot.

It's ok.

You're home now. Put the gun down, Christopher.

Shoot him, Christopher.

Christopher.

Please.

Can I go home now?

I don't think you're gonna go home for a long time.

You came here to kill your family, that's all anybody knows.

It may be all that anyone ever believes.

I wasn't gonna do it.

Well, you're gonna have to talk to a lot of people about it.

Those people are gonna try and help you understand

what you were really trying to do.

She told me... That they weren't my family,

that we had to make our own family.

- Do you have a family? - I don't have any children, no.

Then you don't know what it's like.

Can I talk to my mum?

My real mum.

In a little while.

But first I need you to talk to me.

As someone who makes such a big deal about common courtesy,

I'm a little taken aback...

Slash, a lot taken aback, that you would take my patient,

my patient, out of the hospital without my permission.

And I'm not a professional scold,

but don't put me in this position ever again.

I'm sorry.

Rude! Hannibal, shockingly rude!

You have every right to be upset with me, I overstepped my bounds.

- Where is she? - She's in the dining room.

And Alana...

You were right.

Often am. You have to be more specific.

She wasn't ready to leave the hospital, she...

Experienced a bit of anxiety so I gave her a sedative.

A sedative? What did you give her?

I only gave her half a valium, but she may be a little hazy.

- Hi, doctor bloom. - Hello, Abigail.

You were expecting me?

Please.

Are you hungry?

Hannibal made breakfast for dinner.

I could eat.

What is it?

Abigail...

What do you see?

I see family.

Think it's to late for us to have kids?

It is for me.